Take Me To Those Heavenly Gates
by madaboutcarla
Summary: When living is no longer possible
1. Chapter 1

Will be a two. three parter.

It's focused on Carla's suicide attempt.

References to Liam, Frank's rape etc.

Hope you enjoy

She felt weightless. Empty. And yet so full of crap she struggled to breathe. An odd combination. Each breathe became more and more unnatural. She sat, perched on the edge of her sofa, like a bed tempted to fly it's nest. The skin beneath her eyes was pale and distended. Salty tears having weathered away at the fragile parchment covering her cheeks, left her feeling exposed. She looked around at the room she'd known for so long. The room she'd laughed in, made love in, intoxicated herself in, argued in, been violated in. Memories she could never forget. It was the room that she was going to die in, her life ceasing to exist any longer.

It was 8.23pm. She was tired. Really tired. Her bones felt heavy, her eyelids struggling to remain open. And she felt utterly failed. Failed by him, by her and by them. Failed by herself. She took the familiar path, from her couch to her kitchen, effortlessly letting her hand delve into the bright yellow plastic bag on the kitchen counter, pulling out a bottle of that magic drink, vodka. The yellow bag, a stark contract to the abyss that was Carla's mental state. Cheerful and tasteless. Innocent. Then the vodka, an beautifully clear facade.

The gloriously dangerous sound of the cheap metal cap, scraping against the spherical stem of the glass bottle, the friction of the two materials grinding against each other. Her lips parted almost instinctively as she drew the bottle up to her mouth, inhaling the strong almost medicinal, toxic fumes of the alcohol. Rushing down her gullet, a polluted river consuming anything it's path.

She thought of Frank. How he'd taken over her life. How he'd loved her, adored her, would have done anything for her. How she'd broken his heart, how she'd allowed herself to string him along, hoping her love for Peter would cease, or that she would be able to resign herself to a life or big houses, country walks and little substance. But she just couldn't. She'd done it before, been selfless. And it had cost her, cost him dearly. Now he was lying dead, beneath layers of dirt, with only a slab of stone to symbolise his existence. She'd been holding his heart in her hands, and then she'd loosened her grip. It was her fault. She may not have asked for it, but it was her doing. Tears trickled down her cheeks as she relived the brutal night Frank had inflicted on her. HIs hands pressing firmly against the back of her door. Pinning her like a helpless butterfly at the hands of a thoughtless collector. HIs eyes, rich with anger, deep and menacing.

'Stop Frank, please, get off me' she'd pleaded. But her words were like broken arrows, falling before they could hit their target. Paralysed with fear, his strength ruled. His hands cold and rehearsed, discarding her to the floor.

'No, no, no' she wailed, the only thing she felt capable of doing.

His hands roaming, pulling, touching, creeping. Like sandpaper, whittling down her defences. Her body contorted in response to his misplaced actions, his hands touching her, pulling her limbs open, stealing her body away from her.

Leaving her, forced into a embryonic state, foetal position, knees pulled up close to breasts; deformed like an incinerated piece of paper, fragile shards of her, lingering in the humid stench of cruelty.

Memories she'd rather consign to oblivion, but that she knew she's never be able to erase.

She thought of Peter. Her friend. Her soul mate. The man she adored with every sinew, every fibre of her being. She saw the look in his eyes, the way he cared. He might not love her, he'd told her that enough times, but he cared. The way he'd held her, stroking her hair tenderly, his fingers running through it, as thought he was trying to wash away some of the dirt Frank's touch had left on her.

'But I do, I worry about you all the time' his precious words loitered in her mind. She clung to those words, praying that she was maybe in his mind at that moment. She doubted it. Their journey together had been so complicated. She treasured the way he'd taken such an honest interest in her, how he'd been at her beck and call for so long. But she knew it couldn't go on, not with Leanne now more suspicious than ever. She had to let him go. She had to say goodbye.

Hours passes, slumped over the table, a glass of vodka in one hand. Her peripheral vision was now blurry, the sounds echoing in her mind. Her thoughts overlapped and nothing was clear. She downed the remained of vodka in her glass, her eyes catching something. The small plastic jar of pills Dr Carter had prescribed to her days before. Sleep. It sounded so promising. Only she didn't want to have to wake up and face the reality of the world she now lived in.


	2. Chapter 2

Despite the copious volume of vodka she's drenched her liver in, she managed to manoeuvre herself and sit herself down on her bed. She looked down, her toes curling at the rough hem of the dark cherry red carpet than covered the floor. Her nails where painted a similar shade. She's spent half an hour painting them. Paying attention, forcing herself to focus on something other than fretting. Lacquering the surface of each nail with a dark red varnish, she'd attempted to regain a fragment, a semblance of the life she'd had, where she paid attention to her looks, vain to some people, but for her, a sliver of effort she made to mask her deep rooted insecurities; of her narcissistic tendencies.

The bottle of sleeping pills found its way into her hand, sepia tinted plastic reminding her of an era she hadn't lived in. She sighed heavily, once again getting up, this time with the pills in hand and made in into the living room. She sat, like he had been before, perched on the edge of her couch. Unscrewing the lid of the bottle, it's chunky plastic sound, so childlike compared to the vodka bottle's lid. The little white pills, so many of them, blurred into a white haze as she tipped the contense into her awaiting palm. Clumsily, she reached for the vodka bottle that she'd left on the table, raising her hand to her mouth and tipping her head back, allowing the little spherical slumber inducing drops to roll lazily into back of her throat, quickly downing them, more efficiently than she'd expected with a hefty gulp of vodka. She didn't know how many she'd taken. She wasn't in a state to be that attentive. But enough to knock her out. She was sure of that. Only not enough. Not enough for her. Carla didn't do things by halves. The bottle still contained enough of the pills to further ease her into an irrevocable slumber.

By now she can feel them taking effect. Her eyes are barely open. She can barely think, but almost instinctively she reached for her phone. She has just enough conscious thinning capacity left to feel, to experience the longing she has felt for the past year. She just needs to say goodbye. Closure. She is well on her way, she's going home, going back to arms than want to hold her, to love her, to engulf her. He's waiting for her, up their, probably leaning in a cocky manner against the gates, his hair blowing gently in the wind, arms crossed, cheeky grin, soft, inviting eyes.

Her finger pressed the call button, time flying by, before she knew it his voice filled her head. 'Carla' he said her name, the worry evident in her voice as she slurred her words, unsure of what she was even saying. Then harsh, angry, high pitched words. Leanne.

Her body fell hard against the floor, she barely felt it, but it was hard enough to leave dark puce bruises along one side of her body. The glass crashed the floor beside her, smashing to pieces, surrounding her like physical silhouette.

And then Peter again, his voice fuelled with concern and worry, rich with love, only she was gone. She couldn't hear the way he picked up her condition almost immediately. The way he waited desperately through the silence, for some sign of life. She was in a forever slumber, falling deeper and deeper, further away from him, and closer to the man she'd lost those years ago. Her Liam


	3. Chapter 3

Going to end up being a four/ five parter now!

Slumber had frozen her and she was unable to scream out. The sensations she felt were blunt and unidentifiable, but she felt something strong yet gentle wash over her body. A voice, again, unidentifiable, and yet so familiar, standing out amongst the others that darted across the room she was lying in. She was unaware she was being cradles, her head held like a newborn babies, firm and tender, finger tips softly bearing the weight of her skull. Her shoulder, being kneaded in a desperate bid to communicate her, however meagre.

The blood drained from the network of capillaries mapping her skin, leaving it opaque and lifeless. Lips plump, and yet void of hope, no sign of the glorious smile he knew they knew so well. Eyelids closed, peacefully concealing the olive orbs that had witnessed more than one should in a lifetime.

If only she distinguish his touch from theirs. His tears, hitting the plane of her cheeks, as he mourned the prospect of loosing the women he shared so much with. A bond that he didn't have with anyone else. He'd reached out to her when she closed everyone else out, when she was lost in her own personal limbo, sinking faster and faster into oblivion. He'd nursed her through the most odious of hangovers, and been nursed by her when he could face his wife. Woken up, with a blanket placed delicately over his body, a glass of water left beside him, little things that showed she cared. Heard her passionate pleas, heartfelt and honest, thanking him for the help he'd so graciously given her, stepping forward, supporting her when no one else was attentive enough to care. Seen passed her perfectly rehearsed facade of glamour and confidence, fumbled to find the real her, accepting her flaws and trying to understand why she was the way she was.

He utters the words 'sweetheart' as she looks down at her limp frame, his wife watching on.

'Sir, if you don't mind' the female paramedic said to Peter, gently pushing his hand off Carla, forcing him to sit back against her couch, the curve of her waist resting, against his knees, the softness of her skin plush against him.

'Her pulse is too weak' the male paramedic said to his colleague.

'Carla' Peter said, his voice barely a whisper.

The pair began to administer compressions to Carla's chest, firm motions, as Peter one, praying that they could breathe life into her.

'Come on Carla' the female paramedic said, willing the women she had never crossed paths with before this to respond.

'We've got a pulse, we need to get to hospital quickly' the male paramedic said, inserting an IV into Carla's arm, fighting the drug's she'd drowned herself in, trying to counteract their inevitable fate.

'I'm not leaving her' Peter said, stating more like. 'Peter, let's just go home' Leanne said. 'She needs me' Peter said, in almost a whimpering tone, as she pulled himself up, following the paramedics who had secured Carla's body to a stretcher. Leanne frowned, hearing the words 'Sweetheart' leave his mouth had been hard enough, seeing the way his attention was entirely devoted to her, his hands, loving her. But she too couldn't help but acknowledge the fact Carla could well be dying, and that would hurt her too, despite everything. She reluctantly follows Peter, who's made his way to his car, ready to follow Carla, something he can't help but do.


	4. Chapter 4

_I think I will do one more chapter after this, enjoy! :)_

The hospital was busy that night. But it felt empty. He felt empty. He could hear undignified cries of relatives, muffled tears, he could see people pacing back and forth. The unsympathetic white lights dotted the never-ending halls, making him want to shut his eyes tightly. He couldn't though, if he did, he'd see her limp body, slung carelessly on the floor, surrounded menacingly by shards of glass and untaken pulls.

'God I can't stand this' Peter said, his head in his hands, his feet taking him round in circles.

'Peter will you sit down' Leanne snapped, her knuckles white as she gripped the plastic chair she was sitting on. She'd drained her coffee dry, he'd left his untouched, the plastic frayed around the edges where he had picked at the sharp rim in frustration. Her face was drawn and taught, as Peter's desperate words played around, fine tuned in her head. 'Carla, Carla, sweet heart, please stay with us, please', his voice barley audible as he struggled to say the words. But she hadn't been oblivious to the ease at which his mind processed them, she could see it in his eyes, the care, the understand.. and reluctantly the love. It had set her on edge, her heart torn between worrying for her ex friend's life, and between defending her husband's affections.

'How long are they going to take, we've been here for hours, why is there no news' Peter said, his words running over each other.

Somewhere, beneath the layers of intoxication, she was fighting. Her steely strength duelling aggressively with the weak ghost of the women she had once been. Her eyes were fierce and determined, holding their gaze with the ethereal figure in front of them, ceasing to exist as unidentifiable forms battled to save the defeated women, her life quite literally in their hands.

'Please, god, tell me she is okay' he demanded frantically, his body too close for the doctor's comfort.

'She's not out of the woods yet. We almost lost her in there, and she's done a lot of damage to herself.. but she's still here' the doctor said, the words rolling off his tongue like any other arrangement, too rehearsed to convey any emotion.

Peter nodded, the first seven words confirming she hadn't left him. The doctor's speech becoming less audible as his thoughts danced through what he expected to see when they let him in to see her.

'Can I see her. Please' Peter asked.

The doctor paused, 'She isn't awake, and we don't usually allow people in, but I don't see why you can't sit in there, not for long mind' the doctor said as Peter's face showed nothing but relief.

'Thank you' he said, turning to Leanne. She had listen to the entire interchange, and looked sad and unconvinced, but she knew she was defeated.

He made his way into the dingy room, the lights dull and moody, mechanical beeps and ticking noises merging together in a monotonous cycle.

His eyes moved across the room, taking in the body on the bed. Her raven hair was strewn across her pillow, trailing elegantly over the swell. Her arms lay still and statue like beside her body, which was neatly tucked into crisp white sheets. As he made his way over to the bed, he lingered by her side. The rise and fall of her chest provided some comfort, a stark contrast to the body he had held earlier, void of life.

Her eyes were closed, and her face looked terribly fragile, a intrusive tube forced down her throat providing her with the life she had devastatingly thought worthless.

'Carla, I'm sorry' Peter said. He wasn't exactly sure what he was sorry for, failing her? Not being there for her, not realising her state of mind was so terrifyingly unstable? He desperately wanted her to respond, to see a flicker of an eyelash, the twitch of a finger. She lay still, peacefully suspended in her own, free limbo for the meantime. Perhaps it best, she didn't have to face the realities of her choice, the meticulously sterile communications of councillors, going over and over the motions, simply doing their jobs. She didn't have to face any of that.

Yet


	5. Chapter 5

_Final chapter, hope you enjoyed it :) Thanks for reviews x_

Leanne had gone home. Peter had promised he wouldn't stay much longer. She'd just shrugged, she was tired and frankly couldn't be bothered to argue with Peter any longer. She needed some time to herself to think over the past few hours events. Peter insisted she was just a friend, and he owed it to her to be there when she woke up.

He woke up to the sound of her coughing, her hands clenched in confusion. 'Carla!' he said, unsure of what to do. He was on his feet in seconds, and calling for help.

'Step back if you don't mind Sir' a young male doctor ordered Peter. He suddenly felt very out of place, she was so alone and vulnerable, and he wasn't sure whether he should be there.

'Carla, it's okay, your in hospital' the doctor explained slowly to Carla as they removed the tube from her throat and tried to calm her.

'Hospital' Peter heard Carla's croaky, hoarse voice break through.

She looked drawn and tired as they adjusted her drip and fiddled with monitors.

When she saw him, he was her jump a little in surprise, a gently frown manipulating her face.

'Peter?' she said gingerly.

'It's me, thank god your okay, thank god, we almost lost you silly mare' he said, walking up to her, and putting on hand on her arm, squeezing her gently.

She looked down.

'I don't remember..' she said. 'You don't have to.. just don't do it again, please' Peter said.

'I took.. I took an overdose' Carla said as though she was telling herself.

'Carla, why did you do it?' Peter asked her honestly, sitting down.

When she didn't reply he continued. 'I should have realised.. I should have been on the ball, seen how bad you were' Peter said.

'Peter.. Peter, don't blame yourself. This was my fault. It was what I wanted. I wanted to end up. I was tired of seeing him.. seeing him wherever I go, I don't do victim. Peter I don't, I can't be that person' Carla said.

'Don't let him win, don't let that poor excuse of a man grind you down' Peter said.

'He already has, I'm not the same person anymore.. I can't do this' Carla said.

'Carla, look at me, look at me' Peter said cautiously reaching to pull her chin up so she'd have to look at him.

'Yes you can, since when did you give up Carla?' Peter asked her.

'Since I was raped' Carla said, her voice quavering.

'No, you will not give up, I wont let you' Peter said, determined not to let her succumb to her demons.

'Last night, it was last night weren't it?' Carla asked.

Peter nodded, 'You went quiet on the phone, I came straight over.. and found you' Peter said. She acknowledged the tears in his eyes, it comforted her in a strange manner, knowing the man she loved cared, even if he didn't love her.

'I just wanted to say goodbye.. you know, wish you luck, I meant it you know.. you didn't have to come running' Carla said.

'Didn't I?' Peter questioned.

'I wanted to go.. I still do' Carla said.

Peter smiled slightly, 'Well, no can do I'm afraid' he said, his hand still washing gently over her skin.

'Go back to Leanne Peter, she wont be best please that your here' Carla said.

'I don't care. You're my friend. I care about you' Peter said.

'Your a good friend' Carla said looking away, bringing her hand up to her face to stem the tears that broke her flood gates.

'Hey, Carla' Peter said, hating seeing her cry, but knowing she probably needed to. He stood up, and craned over her, putting his hands around her as she sat up and fell into his chest.

'It's going to be okay, I promise you' Peter said.

'How can you, you don't see what goes on up here' Carla said touching her head lightly.

'No, but that's why you gotta talk to someone, someone professional' Peter said, stroking her hair.

'No, I don't do 'talking' _especially_ not to 'councillors' . 'Well sometimes you gotta do thinks you don't like, give it a go, for me?' Peter said.

'I don't know, they don't know me' Carla said.

'They don't know any of their clients, but they work' Peter said.

'Not always' Carla said.

'Most of the time, come on Carla, open up to them like you do with me?' Peter said.

'We'll see' Carla said as Peter knew not to push any further.

'You look tired' Peter said as he studied Carla's face.

'Well I did almost die Peter' Carla said in her dry humour.

Peter nodded. 'Listen I should probably be getting back, and you need your rest'.

'Be sure to bring me some grapes next time' Carla teased, yawning and shuffling down into the covers.

'If your lucky I might bring you box of chocolate too' Peter smiled.

'Ever the charmer aren't you' Carla said. Peter was glad even in the toughest time she retained the personality he loved.

He didn't want to leave her, but she needed to sleep, and to think. And he needed to get back to Leanne.

Peter stood there, nodding for a moment. 'You look after yourself, and hey, chin up' Peter said, leaning over and pressing his lips against the corner of her mouth. He lingered there, just for a moment, allowing Carla's arms to reach around his neck and hold him close for a minute.

'Thank you' she whispered in his ear. The warmth of her breathe a reassuring sign of life.

'Just get better okay, because I need you' Peter said, tightening their hug before letting her relax and fall back into her pillow.

She nodded gently, smiling and sighing in unison. 'Deal'


End file.
